Raised by the Ashes
by Shadow-Cipher
Summary: Azzanadra is a powerful Mahjarrat and since his return, he's had many things on his mind. The return of Zaros, the Zamorakian Mahjarrat, and even some more human happenings that usually wouldn't be his concern. With his human servant, he trails the lands of Gielinor in search of answers and power and will stop at nothing to get what he wants.


Gielinor is a beautiful world full of many different species and climates. From the icy cold mountains of Trollweiss to the burning hot Kharidian desert; to the blackened lands of Morytania to the beautiful forests of Tirannwn. There was something for every species, a place where everyone could call home. Some species were mighty warriors, fighting for their leaders and to show their strength. Others are peaceful, but often intelligent, knowing practices that have been long since abandoned.

The god of balance himself, the one who populated this beautiful place, Guthix, often gazed upon his land with silence in his mind. He was often torn. On one hand, this beautiful world had been tarnished by the warring gods, beautiful lands turned to desolate waste. On the other hand, however, there was still much beauty and many people worked hard to keep the land lovely and safe. When the Mahjarrat Sliske struck him down, Guthix's last thoughts were of his lovely Gielinor. Even in death, he remembered his past, his present, and considered his future. No matter what, Guthix would never die. Death was a folly for him and many knew that he would return one day. Many worked towards this. Little did Guthix know, however, that after his death his land was being plagued now more than ever. The gods he worked hard to keep at bay one by one returned to the land and war was on the horizon. Would Guthix be revived before such struggles reached a breaking point, or was he doomed to return to a desolate waste?

There were many things that many knew and many agreed that the return of Guthix was a much needed event. Something, anything, to keep the gods at bay. Without anyone to stop them, powerful beings worked as hard as ever to make this world as they wanted it to be… theirs.

Azzanadra yawned slightly, his dull red eyes unbothered by the blinding sunlight. The powerful Mahjarrat loathed wasting his time in the desert. He shuddered to think how much time he had spent there, unaware of other happenings. Zaros was back and still he felt as though his master was faded, not with him. The Zamorakian Mahjarrat were gaining power, but Azzanadra had never abandoned his faith in Zaros, never steered away from his religion.

He couldn't remember how long he had been walking through the dull scenery of the desert. Azzanadra didn't require the protection from the heat of the desert that most who journeyed within its ranks needed. He found this a serious waste of time, but inwardly knew that it was necessary.

Thusly, Azzanadra reached up, adjusting his twin pointed headdress. It wouldn't be him if he wasn't wearing deep purple and a lovely pointed headdress. He stood out in the desert, looking rather unlike most of its inhabitants, but this was simple due to his being a Mahjarrat. Mahjarrat were far different from humans, far stronger, and had much more to give to this world. He would be insulted if he fit in anywhere other than amongst his own kin, most of whom had insanely abandoned Zaros for Zamorak of all people. He gritted his teeth a little, but tried to shake away the bother.

It couldn't be far now. As Azzanadra began to move forward, his feet sinking in the soft, deep sand, he began to catch sight of a desert settlement, nestled cozily in a well hidden place. It was well known that bandits had large run of the desert, but it was amazing how few of their camps the inhabitants of the desert knew about. Humans thought they knew everything, but they were far from such.

There was another pause, a moment where Azzanadra stopped to think to himself. Did he need this? Was he really wasting his time traveling the desert when he could be doing his master's bidding? He felt a little ashamed in himself that he had not achieved his goal yet. Discover the Elder Halls. It should be easy. Pah! Azzanadra had no clue where to begin and unfortunately, Zaros was nastily cryptic when it came to assisting anyone.

Many things needed to get done and Azzanadra had quite the list built up in his head. He could do this all by himself. He didn't need anyone's help. However, the advise he had gotten to come here made sense when he strongly considered it. He could focus on the important with someone else to focus on the daily prattle.

Large tents were pitched in the sand and he imagined that most of the bandits found some comfort being in the tents and not out in the sun. However, the only thing that mattered to Azzanadra was the rather large building towering a couple hundred feet away from him. His headdress towered high, its twin points declaring his presence. Several bandits glanced up, staring at the powerful Mahjarrat. Their eyes flickered with uncertainty and he found himself unimpressed with those who lived here. Living in rags and averting their gaze when a Mahjarrat glanced their way. How sad.

Azzanadra did not move. He simply stood in place and allowed his eyes to scan over the pitiful camp. Wasn't somebody supposed to be meeting him here? That's what he had been told. Damn humans, forgetting their promises to higher beings. If Azzanadra wasn't here on business, he would've struck the camp down with powerful magicks, just because it enraged him that such a place existed. Goodness, maybe after he finished his business here he would strike the place down anyways. It would save everyone quite a bit of hassle and he wouldn't have to think of this pitiful place anymore.

A young male came out of a nearby tent, his soft green eyes widening when he spotted Azzanadra. The powerful Mahjarrat, hearing movement, turned his attention to the bandit, who felt a little small just by the way Azzanadra was looking at him. He was wearing full white robes, although there were many rips and tears in the material. Immediately noted by Azzanadra was the absolutely pathetic weapon, a rather dull looking sword, mostly notably made of iron.

Still, the bandit, his gaze low, approached Azzanadra. He slowed down as he neared the Zarosian Mahjarrat and Azzanadra could almost taste the fear. Still, though, he kept his gaze neutral, unimpressed.

"Greetings," the bandit began, drawing down his white hood to reveal his bright auburn hair, thick and messy. "My name is Dwenn. I apologize for your wait."

Narrowing his eyes, Azzanadra growled, "You had best more than apologize for how long you have made me stand here." He lifted his nose a little, gazing down on the puny, weak form of the young bandit. "I have been waiting far too long for you. You dare to make a Mahjarrat wait? I have business to attend to and it must be completed as soon as possible. I do not have time to play around and wait for you beings to complete your far less important tasks." His teeth flashed. "Do not bother making excuses, human. I am not interested to hear them. Take me to your camp's leader so I may finish my business and leave this pitiful place."

Dwenn could feel himself shrinking in size with every word driven into his skull, becoming smaller and smaller than the already tall Mahjarrat. He felt an idiot. He had been told the Mahjarrat would be arriving soon; he had been reminded numerous times. Oh, but I can go and take a break, eat a couple ugthanki kabobs before he had to return to his orders. The Mahjarrat would never arrive before him. Now he simply hoped he would be allowed to live after this mistake. "Of course," Dwenn said softly, trying to keep his eyes from meeting Azzanadra's. "Come with me."

Azzanadra huffed slightly, bothered highly by this insolent human. He did not like humans whatsoever and loathed making deals with them. However, humans were the prominent race on this planet, like it or not. Azzanadra hoped to see that change one day, hoped to see Zaros throw down all but his most loyal of followers. That would be a day Azzanadra would smile for, even if only a little.

Nonetheless, Azzanadra kept a casual pace, easily able to keep up with the human bandit due to his size and increased stride length. Dwenn checked once to see if the powerful Mahjarrat was still following him, but immediately looked away as he was given a powerful glare. When would this human be gone?

Dwenn came to a stop before entering to building, stopping to speak with a couple of bandits guarding the entrance. "Please give us entry," Dwenn gently asked, seeming a little too kind to be a bandit. Had he ever achieved anything? Azzanadra wondered this, but did not care enough to continue checking.

"Who is this? You know we don't welcome strangers in our camp," growled the guard at the left, a slight spite on his tongue.

"Get this stranger out of our sight. He doesn't belong here," demanded the other guard, the one on the right.

Before Dwenn could respond, Azzanadra pushed forward, roughly pushing against the young bandit. "Who do you think you are?" howled Azzanadra, his eyes flaring. "You dare to treat me as the common rabble? Do you not realize who I am? I am Azzanadra, champion of Zaros. I could smite you on the spot for your insolence and trust me when I saw that I would do so and feel no guilt over such." He grunted, lifting his nose as to look down on them. "You would do well to recognize those who stand above you and let me pass before I adorn your heads in my trophy room."

Meekly, one guard said, "Oh! Azzanadra! Y-Yes, we were expecting you." He shifted his weapon to his other hand and tried to avoid eye contact with the Mahjarrat.

Swallowing, the other guard replied, "Many apologies. We did not know it was you. You have not been around for a long time." He stepped back, his eyes seeming to vibrate with fear. Good. That was exactly the reaction Azzanadra wanted out of these vile humans. "Our leader is waiting just within. His name is Vulture. Go on in."

Neither guard so much as looked at Azzanadra as he passed into the building. They held strongly onto their cheaply built weapons and kept their eyes glued to the ground. Azzanadra passed with a haughty huff, making certain the bandits knew their place in this situation. Dwenn hung back for many moments and Azzanadra cared not for his actions beyond such. Azzanadra did not know whether he entered the building as well or if he fled the moment he got the chance.

"I seek the human known as Vulture!" Azzanadra declated immediately upon entering the building. He searched the large room with his dim eyes, noting the vast number of humans dressed in rags, shackled by chains. It would have been far more amusing if other humans weren't running the show.

A couple seconds passed before a bulky human peered out from another room, his eyes quickly meeting that of Azzanadra's. Unlike the other bandits, who began to shiver when making eye contact with him, the large bandit remained at calm. His eyes lit up and he shifted his body as he approached Azzanadra.

"You must be my client, Azzanadra," immediately said the bandit, seeming fully confident in front of the powerful Mahjarrat. "My name is Vulture. You were wishing to purchase one of my slaves?"

"Yes," muttered Azzanadra, considering the situation at hand. "I require someone who can do my grunt work for me. I am willing to pay well to take one of these pitiful humans off your hands."

Vulture seemed difficult to get a read on. He shared that trait with the Mahjarrat. However, this did not bother Azzanadra. He was quite fine if the human did not want to be understood. Azzanadra did not want to be understood by most others either. "Well, I have many around here. Come with me and I shall show you what I've got." Azzanadra nodded quietly as Vulture turned his back, heading towards the back room.

Azzanadra followed Vulture into the back room, his eyes aglow as he examined the living conditions. There were many more humans in tattered clothing, many skinny, holding an unhealthy dullness. Most of them appeared to have given up, listening dully to the orders of the bandits as though they had no will of their own. It amused Azzanadra, but he kept his expression neutral as Vulture came up to his side.

"I have taken the time to collect some that are highly obedient, some of our most well trained mutts, if I must say." Vulture commented nonchalantly, glancing around the room. Azzanadra's expression remained unchanged.

With another huff, Azzanadra growled, "Well, have with it, then. I have not all day to be staring at your human collection. As amusing as it is, I have other things to attend to, things you could never understand the importance of."

"Fully understood. The powerful never rest." Vulture replied, sounding both blunt and friendly at the same time. Azzanadra lost a fine degree of respect for anyone who tried to play the friendly card. "Those of you who have been selected, I command you to come immediately!"

Azzanadra observed as many dull eyed humans glanced up at the call. Slowly, but surely, a small group of rather useless looking humans gathered in front of the two, Their bodies thin, their eyes toned down and tired; it seemed to be torture to them just to stand there. They stared willingly at Azzanadra, feeling no more fear of him than they did of anyone else. They were completely nullified down to nothing.

The powerful Mahjarrat stared back at the humans, finding no interest in any of them. He did not want an emotionless thrall. If he were looking for such a thing, he would have simply contacted Sliske. While they did not always see eye-to-eye, they were both Zarosians. Rather, Azzanadra assumed Sliske was still Zarosian, unless he had become so obsessed with his faux transference into godhood that he had abandoned his religion in favour of himself. Azzanadra could not be certain and he didn't make a habit of speaking to anyone that wasn't directly involved in his plans. Even then he found little amusement in conversation, in others. Even his own kin often disgusted him, transferring their allegiance from Zaros to Zamorak in the blink of an eye.

"They seem… lifeless." noted Azzanadra bluntly, finding disgust when he overlooked the humans in front of him.

Vulture didn't seem bothered by this comment. Instead, he turned to look at Azzanadra and replied, "Yes, well, they are the most obedient ones were have. Not a one of these filthy pests would argue with your word whatsoever, regardless of the ridiculousness of the request. They have been tamed."

"I find no fun in tameness," noted Azzanadra, lifting up a hand. He thrust the hand before the group of humans and loudly declared, "Get these infernal creatures out of my sight. They are pathetic."

Though Vulture seemed a little confused by Azzanadra's lack of interest in the group, he complied. Turning to face the humans, he yipped, "Scram! Get back to your duties! You are not required here."

It was amusing to Azzanadra how quickly the group scattered. For humans that looked so lifeless, they certainly moved with the swiftness of the furious Larupia cat. It was mere seconds that it took them to be off and Azzanadra noted that Vulture stared quietly at the space they had once been standing, a certain degree of disbelief in his eyes. Azzanadra would've smiled, but that wasn't his thing.

"Do you have anyone more lively?" Azzanadra finally asked, his expression failing to shift in the slightest. His eyes didn't even shift to look at Vulture once more. They remained stuck to the spot.

"Well, we dull them down to this thin nothingness because it makes them far more compliant," explained Vulture, trying not to look at the powerful Mahjarrat in a way that may offend him. Though he generally kept to himself and the Mahjarrat had never directly contacted him or even attempted to make contact with him, living in the desert had taught him many things and tales of the Mahjarrat passed with the swiftness of a Pegasus from Sophanem to Pollnivneach. Suffice to say he knew enough about the Mahjarrat to know that angering one, regardless of power, was not a wise idea. "Unless I am to understand you find amusement in resistance."

Shaking his head, Azzanadra responded, "It's not resistance I like. I dislike being resisted. I do, however, prefer that someone obey me because I have taught them their place, because they understand I am greater than them, not because they've had their minds warped to believe they are useless."

With a grin, Vulture said, "Then I think I know exactly who you'll want." Azzanadra did not smile. His lips didn't even curl up a little. "Come with me."

"This had better be worth it," Azzanadra grumbled as Vulture quickly moved to guide him into another room.

"It most definitely will," Vulture replied quickly, picking up the pace as he trailed down a hallway. He stopped to wave a guard aside, then guided Azzanadra into a small room, the door closing behind them.

As soon as the duo entered the room, Azzanadra was met with the angry howling of a female human. He kept back, amused as he watched a common bandit argue with a young female in a large holding cell. Vulture did not move, but simply allowed Azzanadra to observe as the bandit slowly lost an argument with the girl that seemed to be about her lack of ability to obey. The girl had thick brown hair of a dark shade with many small curls in it. She was also dressed in white and her clothes were tattered as well, but this did not interest Azzanadra. No, what interested him was the feistiness he saw highlighted in her strong green eyes, the way she howled and hissed at the bandit, declaring to him that she refused to obey him. She was highly defiant and quite verbal. Immediately, Azzanadra knew what he wanted to make of this human female. He grinned inwardly at the bandit yelled a foul word at the girl, to which she responded with an even harsher word. The bandit froze for a second, clenched his teeth, then departed.

"Tell me about her," Azzanadra immediately commanded Vulture, showing no signs that this was an optional request.

"There isn't much to say, but there generally never is. We tend not to know much about the lives of our slaves," Vulture began, keeping eye contact with Azzanadra. "From what I know, she was born and raised in East Ardougne. She was contained in Varrock, but none of us know what she was doing in Varrock. We bought her off an outsider, someone not from the desert sands. They didn't say much about her. They just offered us a price and we took her." Vulture paused for a second to consider his next words. "She's been very openly hostile and defiant since we brought her here. Our attempts to nullify her have pretty much failed. We mostly keep her locked up here. She seems to respond to the name Ash, but otherwise, we are at a complete loss with her. She's been here for five years and she hasn't improved much." Azzanadra turned his attention to her now, his eyes quickly meeting with hers.

When Ash noted that someone was watching her, her eyes lit up, a certain eagerness as though she were a young canine presented with a bone. "Hey, you with the spiky hat! What are you looking at? If you want something of me why don't you come over here and say it to my face?"

Azzanadra did not waste time with words. He lifted up a hand and fired an unknown spell across the room. The spell seemed to be of some kind of powerful red energy and smashed powerfully into the bars of the cell, shattering them apart. Ash's eyes immediately grew wide and the brave smirk seemed to be wiped from her face. She yelped as debris showered down around her and struggled in the irons the kept her clasped to the wall. Even Vulture seemed startled.

"I will take her." Azzanadra immediately said, his hand still held up. A red cloud of energy faded from near the bars and still Ash watched with wide eyes, silent. "I shall offer you two hundred thousand gold for her."

Vulture would've sold her for half of that, but if the Mahjarrat was willing to pay more, who was he to argue? "Deal," Vulture answered.

He had no time to say anything else as Azzanadra crossed the room. Azzanadra paused near the large gap in the cell's bars, staring at the motionless figure of the young human female within. She observed as he ducked underneath the bars and into the remains of her cell, staring at her with a strong gaze. "Ash, correct? My name is Azzanadra, champion of Zaros. You now belong to me and me alone. You will answer to only me. Are we clear on this?"

The hate quickly filled back up in Ash's eyes. "Mahjarrat, right?" she asked bitterly, clenching her fists and lashing out with her feet, attempting to strike Azzanadra. "What makes you think I'll listen to you?"

Azzanadra lifted up a hand, a small ball of red magical energy gathering between his fingers. He pried the energy in two with his other hand and then thrust both hands forward. Ash flinched for a second, but then noted that Azzanadra's magic had destroyed the shackles that had held her for so long.

"Fool!" cried Ash eagerly as she noted she was free. She quickly rose to her feet, dashing through the cell. Azzanadra seemed rather neutral as she forced her way past him and out of the cell through the hole he had created. Her eyes focused strongly on the door ahead. Freedom was so very close and she could already taste the outside air. She picked up the pace, her eyes eager and her feet moving quickly to work towards this freedom she so desperately desired. She grabbed the door by its handle and threw it open. However, as soon as Ash entered the hallway, she smashed into something she hadn't time to see and the world spun for a few fleeting seconds.

Azzanadra had teleported and now blocked her only escape path. As her conscience slipped back in, she realized the Mahjarrat that had released her was now blocking her path. When she attempted to regain herself, Azzanadra reached forward, wrapping his fingers around her neck tightly and lifting her a few inches off the ground. His eyes stared strongly into her and she flailed her legs as she attempted to escape the Mahjarrat's grasp on her.

"Let go! L-Let g-g-go," Ash coughed weakly, finding that she was having a hard time collecting oxygen. She struggled more, but Azzanadra was far stronger then her.

"I will only ask this of you one more time, human. Do you understand who belongs to who here? Do you understand what you are now meant to do?"

Ash tried to remain defiant, to never give in to this man, regardless of his strength. She was nobody's pet and never would be. However, her world was beginning to flicker in and out and she could hardly think straight. Her struggles fell flat and she finally coughed, "T-To s-s-serve y-you."

As soon as a satisfactory answer was given, Azzanadra threw her strongly down to the ground, where she scrambled and coughed and gasped. The colour began to return to her and when she had recollected herself, she calmed, keeping on the ground and breathing slowly and deeply.

"From this moment on, you will address me as a proper servant would. I am your master. If you try to escape from me again, I will not be so kind to you," Azzanadra growled darkly, his eyes portraying a strong sense of hatred and intensity.

"Yeah, whatever." growled Ash in a low tone. She continued to refuse to look at Azzanadra. Even a glance was too much.

Anger swirled within Azzanadra, but somehow he found this amusing. He quickly drew back his foot and kicked her strongly in the thigh. With a yelp, she collapsed to the ground. Ash's head smashed into the stone wall as she collapsed and blood began to trickle down her face and into her eyes. She closed her eyes and coughed and spat. "I do believe you would like to try that answer again," Azzanadra suggested, trying to hide his amused smirk at the power he held over this human. It had been so very long since he had gotten to put someone in their proper place and he found entertainment in it."

When Ash turned her head to look at Azzanadra, her upper half of her face was covered with small streams of crimson and she immediately realized that this was one of the kinder things he could have done to her. All this time she had been on equal ground with other humans, but now an ancient and powerful Mahjarrat had stepped into the picture and she felt a strong sense of hopelessness wash through her. She had not felt like this since she last heard of the slaying of her lord and savior, Guthix.

"My apologies, Master Azzanadra. I will try to be more compliant in the future." Ash hissed, feeling like she truly had been abandoned. Guthix no longer stood at her side and now a possibly unstable Mahjarrat of vast power was staking his claim over her. Would she ever truly be free again?

"Good, servant," Azzanadra hummed softly. "Now, come with me. We will speak of what there is to make of you in the future and my need for you."

For the first time in what seemed like forever, Ash didn't argue. When Azzanadra commanded her to follow him, she moved in his direction. Still, she didn't plan on fully listening to this maniac. She would find ways to work around him, to gain her freedom back, and when the moment presented itself, she would escape from this Mahjarrat and would never have to listen to anyone again. These thoughts raced through her mind as she stepped out into the sunlight, her eyes immediately panicking. She had become so used to the dimness of the indoors that the blazing desert sun startled her. If she thought she felt thirsty before, she knew it would only grow greater with this desert.

As she two put distance between themselves and the bandit camp, Ash wasn't sure whether to feel free or trapped. She had escaped the bandit's clutches only to fall into someone else's.

Azzanadra paused, which in turn cued Ash to stop. She curiously overlooked Azzanadra, then in the direction he was looking in. His eyes were focused strongly on the bandit camp behind them.

"Zaros, deliver me the power to bury this place in the sand forever," said Azzanadra, lifting his hand up as high as it would go.

Then, Azzanadra thrust his hand in the direction of the bandit camp. One by one he struck the tents and building with powerful charges of fire magic until the entire place was alight and stacks of smoke towered high into the clouds. Ash's eyes widened. He was attacking those who had just done business with him. What else would he do? Just how far did his insanity spread?

Once the place was lit up to his liking, Azzanadra turned away and barked to Ash, "Come, servant. We're leaving now." Ash made no outward noise to show agitation, but instead grumbled in her head and began to trail the powerful Mahjarrat.


End file.
